Stories of Salem: The Boxcar That Time Forgot
- Jacob Dufour | Publisher
- Apr 16
- 6 min read
Updated: May 16
SPONSORSHIP NOTE: Stories of Salem is made possible through the assistance and resources of the John Hay Center, located at 307 E. Market Street in Salem. Open Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays from 10 to 5, they are an invaluable source of information for anyone interested in the history of their hometown. Learn more at johnhaycenter.org!
Two blocks south of the Salem square, next to the walking trail, sits a large, blue L&N boxcar. Many of us drive past it every day, and most probably barely even notice it. But this boxcar represents a surprising amount of history—and until recently, it was nearly lost to time.
For years, the boxcar sat abandoned less than 100 feet from its current location behind the old Shrum’s Hardware store, swallowed by brush and weather-beaten by decades of Indiana seasons. Its roof had rotted through in places, the floor was caving in, and the inside was piled with trash, old clothes, and a host of other types of unmentionable waste. Simply put, it was the kind of junk pile nature quietly reclaims when no one’s looking.
Luckily, someone did look. And more importantly—someone cared.
But before we get into the nuts and bolts (literally) of how this 40-foot relic was salvaged and restored, let’s take a moment to look back at the railroad that once ran through the heart of Washington County, and the role it played in building the community we know today.
The exact chain of events leading up to the Monon Railroad’s presence in Salem are unknown. Some word-of-mouth accounts claim that around the mid 1840s, a young woman from Salem ordered fabric for a wedding dress from New Albany, but unreliable and muddy stagecoach travel made delivery nearly impossible. As the story goes, this prompted her father and several local businessmen to partner with New Albany entrepreneurs in establishing a railroad using an abandoned state infrastructure project. Other written accounts simply state that James Brooks, the founder of the railroad, intended from the beginning to connect New Albany to Lake Michigan, but chose to initially just build to Salem in order to not frighten potential investors away with grandiose ambitions.
Regardless of the fine details behind the origins of the railroad, within a few short years the New Albany-Salem line was completed, and when the first train arrived in Salem on January 15, 1851, it was said that thousands of people gathered to see it. A local publication reported, “at a very early hour on Wednesday morning last, the people from the country commenced arriving in town and continued to pour in by hundreds until the public square, and Main Street leading to the railroad depot, presented the appearance of a sea of living beings — impatient to gratify the long-cherished desire of seeing a Steam Car.”
The Monon's presence in Washington County was not without its downsides. John Hay Center director Jeremy Elliot estimates that nearly 200 people may have met an untimely end on the tracks over the years that the Monon went through Washington County. Books of these obituaries are just one of many fascinating historical attractions you can find at the Stevens Museum on Market Street.
The route continued to grow town-to-town, and by 1854, James Brooks’ staggering ambition came to fruition, successfully connecting New Albany to Lake Michigan. Over the years, the name of the railroad changed, finally settling on “Monon" in the mid-20th century, derived from the town of Monon, Indiana, where its main lines intersected.
Under the leadership of John W. Barriger III, the Monon Railroad underwent significant modernization. It became one of the first Class I railroads in the United States to fully transition from steam to diesel locomotives, enhancing efficiency and reducing operational costs. The Monon played a crucial role in supporting Indiana's limestone industry and provided essential passenger services, including transporting students to various state universities. However, facing declining passenger numbers and increasing competition from other transportation modes, the Monon eventually merged with other railroad companies, and was ultimately integrated into the CSX Transportation network in the 1980s.
The line remained active for decades, used by Amtrak and to transport hazardous materials and military supplies from the Crane Naval Base. But in 2009, the final freight train passed through, and after the massive floods of 2017 washed out critical track sections, the line was permanently abandoned.
That’s when Stephanie Vines stepped in. The abandonment of the railroad sparked a race to preserve what remained—specifically, one forgotten 40-foot L&N boxcar, believed to be the last of its kind. Tucked behind Shrum Hardware and unlisted in records, it had served for decades at that point as a makeshift storage shed. Months of relentless effort followed—calls, certified letters, and a bit of back-channel luck—before Stephanie and the Washington County Historical Society successfully secured it.
But time hadn't been kind to the boxcar. Decades of exposure to the elements had left it in rough shape—forgotten, rusted, and half-swallowed by the woods. Enter Greg Suvak, a craftsman and welder with a deep appreciation for preservation who took on the challenge of bringing the boxcar back to life, one dented panel and rotted floorboard at a time.
“Those boxcars are meant to be moving,” Greg said. “But this one sat still for decades.” He explained that with no heat or air conditioning, condensation would collect on the inside of the metal roof. That moisture eventually made its way into the seams between the roof and the walls, causing rust and, eventually, holes. Then rainwater started coming in. Parts of the floor were rotted out, and there was trash and debris everywhere. “Old clothes and mattress, just all this stuff in there. It was really disgusting.”
The first step was clearing away the trees and brush that had grown up around it. Then, they freed the brakes and unchained it from the track, moving it out of the woods to a spot where restoration could begin.
“We tried replicating the roof panels, which have curves like a car fender, and it was somewhat difficult to replicate,” he said. “So we ended up doing a lot of bodywork-style repairs—mesh fillers, roofing compounds, sealants—anything to keep future condensation out.”
Once the roof was sealed, they filled gaps, replaced rotten floor slats, and finished the exterior with sandblasting, primer, and paint. “It should be good for a long time now,” Greg said. “Maybe just a fresh coat of paint every decade or so.”
“You cannot tell the difference,” Stephanie chimed in. “I cannot tell the difference. I have seen that rusted out floor, I don't know how many times, and I cannot go in there and point out to you exactly which slats Greg replaced.”
The initial ideas for the restored boxcar varied. Jeremy Elliot, the director of the Washington County Historical Society, thought it would be great to turn it into a covered bridge between the Depot Museum and the John Hay Center’s new outdoor amphitheater. Stephanie and Greg, on the other hand, thought it should be fitted with plumbing and fixtures to serve as an outdoor lavatory for the John Hay Center. “Because who doesn’t love the idea of taking a **** in a boxcar?” Greg laughed. “You can quote me on that.”
However, the plan eventually shifted to using the boxcar for a slightly more meaningful (albeit less practical) purpose: to serve as a landmark in the middle of town, greeting travelers as they bike or hike the newly paved Monon Trail into Salem.
Today, the boxcar stands just a stone’s throw from where it was nearly forgotten, restored in full magnificent color and form. The rusted roof is gone, the floor is solid, and every inch of its steel shell tells a story—not just of the railroad that once connected Salem to the wider world, but of the people who refused to let that story disappear.
It’s easy to pass by it without a second glance. But for those who know what it took to save it, the blue L&N boxcar is more than a landmark. It’s a quiet tribute to perseverance, to history, and to the small acts of care that help keep the Stories of Salem (see what I did there?) alive.
I did not know that we had that boxcar in Salem. So glad that it has been restored and is present for continuing generations to see. Thank you to those involved in the work that brought the boxcar back to it’s original form and thank you Jacob for writing the article.
What an interesting and educational (and tragic) article!
Definitely have a deeper appreciation for the railroad history and preservation of this boxcar!! Great job, Greg and Stephanie!!❤